


middle of nowhere

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wake up</p>
            </blockquote>





	middle of nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> http://babeltwo.tumblr.com/post/113130313970/mhrandomgenerator-html

he is laying in something wet and cold. he flexes his fingers, feels sand under his chipped fingernails, in his unlaced shoes, on his sunburned face. he hears the soft cries of seagulls overhead and the wet slap of the tide on the shore. his nose is filled with salt, fish, damp air promising a storm. his legs are submerged in water and he can't move his toes, can't feel his feet. the frigid water sucks the warmth from his bones.

he's scared of opening his eyes and seeing nothing, a blank face swallowing up his own. but he has to eventually, and when he finally does. birds silhouetted against a gray-blue sky. rain clouds as far as the naked eye can see.

tim's head hurts when he rolls over, groaning. his eyelids are crusty. he wipes his face and feels a fresh bruise on his cheek, from god knows what. he spits out blood and saltwater, and something black and slimy that makes his tongue feel numb, like seaweed, like blood, but awful and thick and warm.

his body is tender all over, his muscles are cramped, his back is sore, his mouth tastes like rotten fish and piss. he runs his tongue over his gums and tastes that bitter blackness stuck to his teeth. it isn't new but it still isn't welcome. he feels his insides churning, settling back into place, readjusting from Them to Him.

at least he's wearing shoes. he can't get any feeling in his feet but walking might get his blood flowing again.

he needs sleep, actual, genuine sleep, not hours of sleepwalking. he feels like he could sleep for days without waking up. he needs to get to a hotel because he can't make it home like this. where is home, how far? shit. where has he been dragged out to now?

he looks around. the beach is empty, except for him and a flock of seagulls fighting in the far distance. he pats down his jacket - Their favorite jacket - for a phone or money, anything that will help him. he finds a half-empty bottle of pills and tries dry swallowing one, fails, and almost falls over into the water as he gags

he could be in florida, georgia, south carolina for all he knows. alabama doesn't have much of a coastline to brag of. he's in the middle of nowhere.

he finds a phone in his back pocket and hopes that the middle of nowhere has reception.


End file.
